Twist Me

by Anna Zaires

  She licks her lips, and my eyes follow the path of her delicate pink tongue. I want to wrap her thick hair around my fist and force her head down to my lap, but I resist the urge. There will be time for that later, when we’re in a more secure—and less public—location.

  “Are you going to send my parents another million dollars?” Her eyes are wide and guileless as she looks at me, but I can sense the subtle challenge in her voice. She’s testing me—testing the bounds of this new stage of our relationship.

  My smile broadens, and I reach over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you want me to send it to them, my pet?”

  She stares at me without blinking. “Not really,” she says softly. “I would much rather call them instead.”

  I hold her gaze. “All right. You can call them once we get there.”

  Her eyes widen, and I see that I surprised her. She was expecting that I would keep her captive again, cut off from the outside world. What she doesn’t realize is that it’s no longer necessary.

  I’ve succeeded in what I set out to do.

  I’ve made her completely mine.

  * * *

  If you’d like to know when Keep Me becomes available, please visit my website at www.annazaires.com and sign up for my new release email list.

  Excerpt from Close Liaisons

  Author’s Note: Close Liaisons is the first book in my erotic sci-fi romance series, the Krinar Chronicles. While not as dark as Twist Me, it does have some elements that readers of dark erotica may enjoy. The book is currently available for FREE at all the major retailers.

  * * *

  A dark and edgy romance that will appeal to fans of erotic and turbulent relationships . . .

  In the near future, the Krinar rule the Earth. An advanced race from another galaxy, they are still a mystery to us—and we are completely at their mercy.

  Shy and innocent, Mia Stalis is a college student in New York City who has led a very normal life. Like most people, she's never had any interactions with the invaders—until one fateful day in the park changes everything. Having caught Korum's eye, she must now contend with a powerful, dangerously seductive Krinar who wants to possess her and will stop at nothing to make her his own.

  How far would you go to regain your freedom? How much would you sacrifice to help your people? What choice will you make when you begin to fall for your enemy?

  * * *

  The air was crisp and clear as Mia walked briskly down a winding path in Central Park. Signs of spring were everywhere, from tiny buds on still-bare trees to the proliferation of nannies out to enjoy the first warm day with their rambunctious charges.

  It was strange how much everything had changed in the last few years, and yet how much remained the same. If anyone had asked Mia ten years ago how she thought life might be after an alien invasion, this would have been nowhere near her imaginings. Independence Day, The War of the Worlds—none of these were even close to the reality of encountering a more advanced civilization. There had been no fight, no resistance of any kind on government level—because they had not allowed it. In hindsight, it was clear how silly those movies had been. Nuclear weapons, satellites, fighter jets—these were little more than rocks and sticks to an ancient civilization that could cross the universe faster than the speed of light.

  Spotting an empty bench near the lake, Mia gratefully headed for it, her shoulders feeling the strain of the backpack filled with her chunky twelve-year-old laptop and old-fashioned paper books. At twenty-one, she sometimes felt old, out of step with the fast-paced new world of razor-slim tablets and cell phones embedded in wristwatches. The pace of technological progress had not slowed since K-Day; if anything, many of the new gadgets had been influenced by what the Krinar had. Not that the Ks had shared any of their precious technology; as far as they were concerned, their little experiment had to continue uninterrupted.

  Unzipping her bag, Mia took out her old Mac. The thing was heavy and slow, but it worked—and as a starving college student, Mia could not afford anything better. Logging on, she opened a blank Word document and prepared to start the torturous process of writing her Sociology paper.

  Ten minutes and exactly zero words later, she stopped. Who was she kidding? If she really wanted to write the damn thing, she would’ve never come to the park. As tempting as it was to pretend that she could enjoy the fresh air and be productive at the same time, those two had never been compatible in her experience. A musty old library was a much better setting for anything requiring that kind of brainpower exertion.

  Mentally kicking herself for her own laziness, Mia let out a sigh and started looking around instead. People-watching in New York never failed to amuse her.

  The tableau was a familiar one, with the requisite homeless person occupying a nearby bench—thank God it wasn’t the closest one to her, since he looked like he might smell very ripe—and two nannies chatting with each other in Spanish as they pushed their Bugaboos at a leisurely pace. A girl jogged on a path a little further ahead, her bright pink Reeboks contrasting nicely with her blue leggings. Mia’s gaze followed the jogger as she rounded the corner, envying her athleticism. Her own hectic schedule allowed her little time to exercise, and she doubted she could keep up with the girl for even a mile at this point.

  To the right, she could see the Bow Bridge over the lake. A man was leaning on the railing, looking out over the water. His face was turned away from Mia, so she could only see part of his profile. Nevertheless, something about him caught her attention.

  She wasn’t sure what it was. He was definitely tall and seemed well-built under the expensive-looking trench coat he was wearing, but that was only part of the story. Tall, good-looking men were common in model-infested New York City. No, it was something else. Perhaps it was the way he stood—very still, with no extra movements. His hair was dark and glossy under the bright afternoon sun, just long enough in the front to move slightly in the warm spring breeze.

  He also stood alone.

  That’s it, Mia realized. The normally popular and picturesque bridge was completely deserted, except for the man who was standing on it. Everyone appeared to be giving it a wide berth for some unknown reason. In fact, with the exception of herself and her potentially aromatic homeless neighbor, the entire row of benches in the highly desirable waterfront location was empty.

  As though sensing her gaze on him, the object of her attention slowly turned his head and looked directly at Mia. Before her conscious brain could even make the connection, she felt her blood turn to ice, leaving her paralyzed in place and helpless to do anything but stare at the predator who now seemed to be examining her with interest.

  * * *

  Breathe, Mia, breathe. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a small rational voice kept repeating those words. That same oddly objective part of her noted his symmetric face structure, with golden skin stretched tightly over high cheekbones and a firm jaw. Pictures and videos of Ks that she’d seen had hardly done them justice. Standing no more than thirty feet away, the creature was simply stunning.

  As she continued staring at him, still frozen in place, he straightened and began walking toward her. Or rather stalking toward her, she thought stupidly, as his every movement reminded her of a jungle cat sinuously approaching a gazelle. All the while, his eyes never left hers. As he approached, she could make out individual yellow flecks in his light golden eyes and the thick long lashes surrounding them.

  She watched in horrified disbelief as he sat down on her bench, less than two feet away from her, and smiled, showing white even teeth. No fangs, she noted with some functioning part of her brain. Not even a hint of them. That used to be another myth about them, like their supposed abhorrence of the sun.

  “What’s your name?” The creature practically purred the question at her. His voice was low and smooth, completely unaccented. His nostrils flared slightly, as though inhaling her scent.

  “Um . . .” Mia swallowed nervously. “M-Mia.”
>
  “Mia,” he repeated slowly, seemingly savoring her name. “Mia what?”

  “Mia Stalis.” Oh crap, why did he want to know her name? Why was he here, talking to her? In general, what was he doing in Central Park, so far away from any of the K Centers? Breathe, Mia, breathe.

  “Relax, Mia Stalis.” His smile got wider, exposing a dimple in his left cheek. A dimple? Ks had dimples? “Have you never encountered one of us before?”

  “No, I haven’t,” Mia exhaled sharply, realizing that she was holding her breath. She was proud that her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she felt. Should she ask? Did she want to know?

  She gathered her courage. “What, um—” Another swallow. “What do you want from me?”

  “For now, conversation.” He looked like he was about to laugh at her, those gold eyes crinkling slightly at the corners.

  Strangely, that pissed her off enough to take the edge off her fear. If there was anything Mia hated, it was being laughed at. With her short, skinny stature and a general lack of social skills that came from an awkward teenage phase involving every girl’s nightmare of braces, frizzy hair, and glasses, Mia had more than enough experience being the butt of someone’s joke.

  She lifted her chin belligerently. “Okay, then, what is your name?”

  “It’s Korum.”

  “Just Korum?”

  “We don’t really have last names, not the way you do. My full name is much longer, but you wouldn’t be able to pronounce it if I told you.”

  Okay, that was interesting. She now remembered reading something like that in The New York Times. So far, so good. Her legs had nearly stopped shaking, and her breathing was returning to normal. Maybe, just maybe, she would get out of this alive. This conversation business seemed safe enough, although the way he kept staring at her with those unblinking yellowish eyes was unnerving. She decided to keep him talking.

  “What are you doing here, Korum?”

  “I just told you, making conversation with you, Mia.” His voice again held a hint of laughter.

  Frustrated, Mia blew out her breath. “I meant, what are you doing here in Central Park? In New York City in general?”

  He smiled again, cocking his head slightly to the side. “Maybe I’m hoping to meet a pretty curly-haired girl.”

  Okay, enough was enough. He was clearly toying with her. Now that she could think a little again, she realized that they were in the middle of Central Park, in full view of about a gazillion spectators. She surreptitiously glanced around to confirm that. Yep, sure enough, although people were obviously steering clear of her bench and its otherworldly occupant, there were a number of brave souls staring their way from further up the path. A couple were even cautiously filming them with their wristwatch cameras. If the K tried anything with her, it would be on YouTube in the blink of an eye, and he had to know it. Of course, he may or may not care about that.

  Still, going on the assumption that since she’d never come across any videos of K assaults on college students in the middle of Central Park, she was relatively safe, Mia cautiously reached for her laptop and lifted it to stuff it back into her backpack.

  “Let me help you with that, Mia—”

  And before she could blink, she felt him take her heavy laptop from her suddenly boneless fingers, gently brushing against her knuckles in the process. A sensation similar to a mild electric shock shot through Mia at his touch, leaving her nerve endings tingling in its wake.

  Reaching for her backpack, he carefully put away the laptop in a smooth, sinuous motion. “There you go, all better now.”

  Oh God, he had touched her. Maybe her theory about the safety of public locations was bogus. She felt her breathing speeding up again, and her heart rate was probably well into the anaerobic zone at this point.

  “I have to go now . . . Bye!”

  How she managed to squeeze out those words without hyperventilating, she would never know. Grabbing the strap of the backpack he’d just put down, she jumped to her feet, noting somewhere in the back of her mind that her earlier paralysis seemed to be gone.

  “Bye, Mia. I will see you later.” His softly mocking voice carried in the clear spring air as she took off, nearly running in her haste to get away.

  * * *

  If you’d like to find out more, please visit my website at www.annazaires.com. All three books in the Krinar Chronicles trilogy are now available, and Close Liaisons is currently FREE at most retailers.

  Excerpt from White Nights

  Author’s Note: This is a contemporary erotic romance. The excerpt and the description are unedited and subject to change.

  * * *

  A Russian Oligarch

  Alex Volkov always gets what he wants. Once an orphan on the streets of Saint Petersburg, he’s now one of the wealthiest men in the world. But one doesn’t rise that far in Russia without crossing the line . . .

  An American Nurse

  Kate Morrell has always been capable and independent. She neither wants nor needs a man in her life. Yet she can’t help being drawn to the dangerous stranger she meets in the hospital . . .

  A Deadly Game

  When Alex’s past threatens their present, Kate must decide how much she’s willing to risk to be with him . . . and whether the man she’s falling for is any different from the ruthless assassin hunting them down.

  * * *

  “Kate, I’m sorry, but we really need you right now.”

  June Wallers, the nursing supervisor, burst into the tiny room where Katherine Morrell was quickly finishing her lunch.

  Sighing, Kate put down her half-eaten sandwich, took a sip of water, and followed June down the hall. This was not the first time this week her allocated lunch hour had turned into a ten-minute snack break.

  The recession had taken a heavy toll on New York hospitals, with budget cuts leading to hiring freezes and staff layoffs. As a result, the Emergency Room at Coney Island Hospital was at least three nurses short of what it needed to function properly. Other departments were also short-staffed, but their patient flow was somewhat more predictable. At the ER, however, it was almost always a madhouse.

  This week had been particularly horrible. It was flu season, and one of the nurses had gotten sick. It was the absolute worst time for her to be out, as flu season also brought a greater-than-usual influx of patients. This was Kate’s fifth twelve-hour shift this week, and it was a night shift—something she hated to do, but couldn’t always avoid. But June had begged, and Kate had given in, knowing there was no one else who could replace her.

  And here she was, skipping her lunch yet again. At this pace, she would be skin-and-bones before the flu season was over. The ‘flu diet,’ her mom liked to call it.

  “What’s the emergency?” Kate asked, walking faster to keep up with June. At fifty-five years of age, the nurse supervisor was as spry as a twenty-year-old.

  “We’ve got a gunshot wound.”

  “How bad?”

  “We’re not sure yet. Lettie’s kid got sick, and she just left—”

  “What? So who’s with the patients?”

  “Nancy.”

  Shit. Kate almost broke into a run. Nancy was a first-year nurse. She was trying hard, but she needed a lot of guidance. She should never be on her own without a more experienced nurse present.

  “Now you see why we need you,” June said wryly, and Kate nodded, her pulse speeding up.

  This was why she’d gone into nursing—because she liked the idea of being needed, of helping people. A good nurse could make a difference between life and death for a patient, particularly in the ER. It was a heavy responsibility at times, but Kate didn’t mind. She liked the fast pace of work in the ER, the way twelve hours would just fly by. By the end of each day, she was so exhausted she could barely walk, but she was also satisfied.

  The ER was teeming with activity when Kate entered. Approaching one of the curtained-off sections, Kate pulled back the drapes and saw the gunshot victim lying on the st
retcher. He was a large man, tall and broad. Caucasian, from the looks of him. She guessed his age to be somewhere in the late twenties or early thirties. He had an oxygen mask on, and was already hooked up to the cardiac monitor. There was an IV drip in his arm, and he seemed to be unconscious.

  Lettie, the first-year nurse, was applying pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding. There were also two other men were standing nearby, but Kate paid them little attention, all her focus on the patient.

  Quickly assessing the situation, Kate washed her hands and took charge. The patient’s pulse was strong, and he appeared to be breathing with no distress. Kate checked his pupils; they were normal and responded to light stimulation properly. There was an exit wound, which was lucky. Had the bullet remained inside the body, it could’ve caused additional damage and required surgery. A CT scan showed that the bullet had just missed the heart and other critical organs. Another inch, and the man would be occupying a body bag instead of this stretcher. As it was, the main challenge was getting the wound clean and stopping the bleeding.

  Kate didn’t wonder how, why, or who had shot this man. That wasn’t her job. Her job was to save his life, to stabilize him until the doctor could get there. In cases like this—true life-threatening emergencies—the doctor would see the patient quickly. All other ER patients were typically in for a longer wait.

  When Dr. Stevenson appeared, she filled him in, rattling off the patient’s vitals. Then she assisted him as he sutured and bandaged the wound.

  Finally, the victim was stable and sedated. Barring any unforeseen complications, the man would live.

  Stripping off the gloves, Kate walked over to the sink to wash her hands again. The habit was so deeply ingrained, she never had to think about it. Whenever she was in the hospital, she washed her hands compulsively every chance she got. Far too many deadly patient infections resulted from a healthcare professional’s lax approach to hygiene.